A Pope From the Empire—But Not Of It

At first glance, the election of an American pope may seem like long-overdue recognition of the United States’ global role. But Leo XIV is no vessel of American triumphalism. If anything, he’s the exception that proves the rule.

Born in Chicago, Prevost spent most of his priesthood outside the U.S.—notably in Peru, where he served as bishop. As former head of the Augustinian order, he led missions in over 50 countries. More recently, he ran the powerful Vatican office responsible for appointing bishops worldwide.

In that sense, he is an American pope who doesn’t quite feel American—at least not in the political, cultural, or ideological sense many would expect. His biography mirrors the wider Church’s evolution under Pope Francis: decentralised, outward-facing, and deeply engaged with the peripheries of the world.

That distinction matters. Concerns about an American pope have never been about nationality alone, but about overreach. When a single country dominates politics, culture, and commerce, giving it spiritual supremacy too risks conflating faith with power.

By choosing someone with an American passport but a global ministry, the conclave resolved that tension. Pope Leo XIV can speak to Americans without speaking for them. He embodies a form of Catholicism that transcends borders—even when leading from within the world’s most powerful nation.

A Strategic Election in a Fragmented World

The timing of Leo XIV’s election is not incidental. His rise follows the death of Pope Francis, the return of Donald Trump to the White House, and a sharp rise in global polarisation.

Some cardinals had begun quietly discussing the need for a leader who could credibly engage the U.S. while offering a counterpoint to the ideology Trump represents. The concern was less about partisanship than what Trumpism symbolises: nationalism over cooperation, spectacle over substance, and a weaponisation of religion for political gain.

Trump’s recent AI-generated image of himself dressed as pope—shared by official White House channels—was widely seen in Rome as absurd, but also dangerous. It blurred the line between religious symbolism and political theatre at a time when the Church seeks to defend its independence.

In this context, Leo XIV makes strategic sense. He is American by origin, Franciscan in spirit. His election allows the Vatican to engage Washington without endorsing it. And his backing from Latin American cardinals underscores the Church’s enduring commitment to the Global South—even as it now speaks with a Northern accent.

Today, the pope is more than a religious figure. He is a voice in global diplomacy, a broker in conflict, and a moral compass in a fractured world. As former U.S. ambassador to the Holy See Joe Donnelly put it: “The pope is not only the voice for 1.4 billion Catholics—but for the voiceless.”

Seen in this light, Leo XIV’s election is less a coincidence of biography than a deliberate move to position the Church for another era of global instability—led by someone fluent in both empire and humility.

Continuity, Not Capitulation: What Kind of Pope Might Leo XIV Be?

Though his nationality is unprecedented, Leo XIV is not expected to deviate sharply from Pope Francis’s path. If anything, he may deepen it—emphasising humility, pastoral presence, and a Church that sides with the marginalised over the powerful.

He’s already given signs of this vision. In a pre-election interview, Prevost said a bishop should not be “a little prince sitting in his kingdom,” but someone who “walks with the people, suffers with them.” It’s a vision steeped in Francis’s “field hospital” model of the Church.

This is no accident. Nearly 80 percent of the cardinals who elected him were appointed by Francis, and their choice reflects not just theological continuity, but cultural alignment: a desire to steady the Church without stagnating it.

That makes Leo XIV’s American background even more complex. The U.S. Church is one of the most ideologically divided in the world—split between those who champion Francis’s social agenda and those who view it as a betrayal of orthodoxy. Leo XIV is unlikely to resolve that divide, but he may complicate attempts to weaponise the papacy for domestic political purposes.

In many ways, he defies easy categorisation. He is not a European technocrat nor a populist outsider. His legitimacy comes not from ideological clarity, but from global pastoral experience and quiet authority. If he continues Francis’s reforms, he may do so with a different tone—more measured, but no less intentional.

His agenda—whether it focuses on migration, climate, inequality, or internal Church reform—remains to be seen. But his election already signals a preference for nuance over noise, universality over nationalism.

The Vatican’s American Moment—And Its Limits

Pope Leo XIV’s election is undoubtedly historic. But if this is an American moment for the Church, it is one shaped more by caution than celebration.

This is not a triumph of American Catholicism, but a recalibration of its place in the global Church. The new pope is unlikely to align with the culture warriors who claim to speak for Catholic values in the U.S. Nor is he likely to pander to nationalist movements anywhere else.

Instead, his election signals a deeper message: that in a time of geopolitical instability and institutional distrust, the Vatican still believes in its own moral role—and still knows how to assert it.

By elevating an American formed beyond America, the Church has chosen not to embrace empire, but to check it. Quietly. Strategically. And on its own terms.

What kind of papacy Pope Leo XIV will lead remains to be seen. But his election already tells us something essential: that the Church does not follow power blindly. It reads the times, then acts with long memory and longer purpose.